


Return of the Bard

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Humor, M/M, Series: Mountie Slayer Arc 15, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-17
Updated: 2000-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: Friday night orgies...This story is a sequel toPissing Match.





	Return of the Bard

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "Return of the Bard"
    Author: EA Karras and Magnes
    Rated: R
    Email:,
    Series: Arc 1.5
    Notes: Friday night orgy at the Gargoyle.
    
    -------
    
    Fraser peered at the white bag of clothing Cassandra had handed him,
    suspiciously. He had come to her for advice on how to blend in at The
    Gargoyle , the club Tom had taken him slaying almost a week ago. She
    had come back with this. 
    
    He was almost afraid to open it. 
    
    Ray, however, was not, and ripped open the package. Upon seeing the contents,
    he declared Cassie to be his second favorite person in the world. 
    
    Fraser dared peek and nearly fell over. 
    
    Leather. Lots and lots of leather. 
    
    ***
    
    Tom and Calhoun were arguing over who was going to drive whom to the
    PTA meeting at Adam's school.  Calhoun was refusing to be seen in the
    Gremlin and Tom was in a mood to drive.  Neither was backing down and
    they had become Ray's entertainment for the evening. 
    
    At least until Fraser shyly stepped out of there room clad from top to
    bottom in leather. Black leather jacket. White shirt. Serge colored pants.
    
    Everyone stopped right in their tracks and were promptly subject to glares
    from the vampire prince.
    
    "Hey!  Eyes back in yer heads!  Can't a guy wear a little leather and
    not cause a sensation?"
    
    "A little?" gaped Calhoun.
    
    "No," said Grissom, just as stunned.
    
    ***
    
    Ray opted for his usual casual look, jeans and a t-shirt and his leather
    jacket.  He was having too much fun staring at Fraser -HIS Constable
    Benton Fraser, RCMS, - in skin-tight leather.  God, Cassie was brilliant.
    He had to send her flowers tomorrow. 
    
    They got some looks as they entered the Gargoyle.  Ray wasn't sure if
    they were looks of envy, lust, or recognition.  Probably a combination
    of all three.  
    
    He hadn't seen so many different types of demons in ages.  There
    were a few Mailor Demons all decked out for a night on the town in postal
    uniforms. An entire gaggle of gremlins filled a booth, trading insults
    with a Vortex Demon and his Dust Devil date. He stared and he knew he
    stared when he spotted a pit crew of Speed Demons hogging the dance floor.
    Every last one of them was dressed as either Speed Racer, Trixie, or
    Racer X.  Male or female, didn't matter. He hadn't seen any Speed Demons
    in years. 
    
    They pushed their way to the bar and the bartender, Jack, let out a shout
    of recognition.
    
    "Fraser!"
    
    At his shout dead silence swept over the bar.  All heads turned.  Ray
    shifted nervously, then a murmuring started that swept through the room.
    He could only make out a two words: The Bard. 
    
    "Uh, Frase?"
    
    "Is Chauncey in?" asked Fraser, ignoring the stir he was causing. 
    
    Jack grinned.  "Give me ten minutes and he will be, sir!"
    
    "Sir?" echoed Ray in disbelief. Was this place for real?
    
    A Heinic sidled up between them.  "Buy you dreamboats a drink?"
    
    ***
    
    Tom sat at the table with Adam's teachers, positively enthralled by what
    they were telling him about what the curriculum would hold for his son
    after winter vacation ended. It wasn't that what they were telling him
    was particularly interesting, it wasn't. Definetly not.
    
    But the demon in him was thrilled at their boringness.
    
    James, however, was having trouble reigning in his urge to find a stake
    and use it on himself just to escape the everlasting terror and boredom.
    Gods, how long had they been here? A year? Ten?
    
    And then Tom wanted to go to the Gargoyle to see Fraser's show. Would
    it never end?
    
    "James?  James, do you want to see how they decorated the hallway?" 
    
    "No."
    
    Tom was tugging him upright anyway, dragging him along to see the Picasso's
    in the hall.  Adam's were easy to pick out.  He was the only preschooler
    who wrote in cuneiform and managed to make a crayon drawing of his father
    look like a portrait by Sargent and a sketch of some flowers that could
    rival Van Gogh. 
    
    The teacher looked at Tom with interest as he exclaimed over the drawings.
    
    "He says he thinks he'll try a blue stage next," she commented.
    
    "Isn't he wonderful?" cooed Tom.
    
    Calhoun didn't care who got to see his fangs as he yawned, moments away
    from a coma. 
    
    ***
    
    Some nervous and groveling demon named Chauncey escorted Fraser and Ray
    grandly through the club to a back room where a band of Cloister Demons
    was playing on the stage.  A huge crowd followed them, packing the room,
    and without hesitation Chauncey marched up onto the stage and spoke with
    the lead singer.  Ray saw her eyes grew huge and she searched thje crowd
    for this Bard dude. 
    
    "They can't be serious," muttered Ray as the band willingly abandoned
    their gig and joined the crowd.
    
    "This is an art form to them, Ray," whispered Fraser.
    
    "Torture is art?"
    
    "Ray!  Storytelling!"
    
    "Then how come Tom Cat can't connect more than four related sentences?
    Huh?"
    
    Fraser hissed under his breath like it was a state secret, "He's a breeder."
    
    Kowalski blinked.  He was missing something here. "Oh. 'Course.  Silly
    me." 
    
    ***
    
    Tom was feeling particularly wicked when he got James settled in the
    Gremlin and ready to go down to Fraser's show. He smirked and switched
    gears. 
    
    James' eyes opened wide when he realised they were going speeds the Gremlin
    was never meant to go. 
    
    And in a school zone too.
    
    ***
    
    Ray got a front-row seat. As soon as the demons figured out he was with
    the poet lauriat on the stage he had his own fan club and followers,
    complete with arch enemies and rivals.  Chauncey, whom Ray would have
    sworn had tears in his eyes as he announced the long awaited (Oh, boy,
    thought Ray, a whole week!) return of the Hatted One.  Then Fraser started
    and Ray almost immediately nodded off. 
    
    ***
    
    He didn't think it was even possible to go 120 in a parking garage, but
    Tom had proved him wrong. He stared out the windows wide-eyed and had
    to grab the dash for support when Tom suddenly braked, gaping. 
    
    "Oh my God...." Tom muttered.
    
    "What? What?" He wondered if he sounded as hysterical as he felt. 
    
    "That's my car...." Tom laughed, nodding to...
    
    Dear God, could the night get any worse. A Citreon?
    
    And it was...orange.
    
    ***
    
    "Would you hold this for me?"
    
    Ray blinkd and jerked awake.  Fraser came into focus before his eyes,
    holding out his Stetson.
    
    "Sure.  'Course.  How's it going?"
    
    "I'm only two hours into the story, but Chauncey recieved four seperate
    messages stating four different groups intended to hold my hat hostage
    in return for tapes of me telling stories."
    
    "The perils and pitfalls of being the Bard, huh?"
    
    ***
    
    Ray was wearing the Stetson now, to the amusement of Fraser, who loved
    to see the detective in the hat, and the undying envy of the demons surrounding
    him. He didn't notice, but behind him the crowd parted like the Red Sea
    before Moses as James Calhoun, bored, disgusted, and annoyed, strode
    into the room and collapsed into the seat next to him. 
    
    "That bad?"
    
    "The man drives like a psychopath."
    
    "Hell," Ray shuddered, remembering. "I coulda told ya that."
    
    "So why didn't you?"
    
    "More fun this way."
    
    "Cretin."
    
    "Where's Cat Man?"
    
    "Having a religious experience in the parking garage."
    
    "Oh man....he found it?"
    
    ***
    
    Tom was amazed. The gremlins in the parking garage had kept his first
    car in perfect working order. He'd always wondered what had happened
    to it and here it was in all its imported pink glory.  He ran a hand
    across the polished spoiler and snuck a glance inside.  Everything was
    perfectly intact, exactly as he'd left it. 
    
    A mess, in other words.
    
    ***
    
    Calhoun glared as the Moloch finally made his way to their table after
    spending what felt like three hours talking to the bartender. He stood
    behind Calhoun's chair, watching the Mountie for at least five minutes.
    His hands stole up to the vampire's shoulders and began to massage his
    neck Calhoun sighed.  Something was finally going right tonight. 
    
    Then Ray noticed the glazed look in Tom's eyes and snorted. That was
    /not/ boredom.  And Dead Man didn't have a clue.
    
    "James..." Tom's voice was low and purring.
    
    "What?" He looked up at the Slayer and sighed. "At least tell me you're
    revved up because of the Mountie and his leather a-go-go."
    
    "Sorry."
    
    It was then both Calhoun and James noticed the reactions of the demons.
    
    They weren't just in ecstacies as Fraser carried on with his saga.  No.
    They were...
    
    Ray's voice was a little scared.  "Uh, Cal, is it me or are they getting
    off on this?"
    
    Calhoun cast a frightened look upwards at the Moloch that was kneading
    his shoulders with growing enthusiasm.  Tom was bordering obscene, happily
    lost in his own little world full of droning Canadian accent and leather
    and... 
    
    "Stop that," ordered Calhoun humorlessly, staring straight ahead. 
    
    "Mmmmmm," purred the Moloch, ignoring him.
    
    "Thomas, stop that.  We're in public."
    
    "Mmmmmmmmrrrraaarrrrrrrr," growled Tom sweetly.
    
    Ray scrunched down low in his seat, pulling the Stetson low.  This had
    to be illegal.  There had to be a ban on Inuit stories in large crowds
    of demons. 
    
    "TOM!" hissed Calhoun and Ray couldn't stop the laugh that welled up
    in his throat.  He caught Fraser's eye and the Mountie smiled knowingly,
    laughing along with Ray. 
    
    Calhoun was losing his battle to keep Tom out of his shirt.  "Cheeky
    bastard mountie knew this would happen!  What is it?  Leather?  Mono-tone
    voices? Spotlights?" 
    
    Ray was almost crying.  "Boredom."
    
    Calhoun froze and Tom won the battle.  "What?  They get off on boredom?
    What the hell does golf do to them?"
    
    At the mention of the sport Tom pounced and Calhoun went down with a
    yelp of surprise. Ray was shaking he was laughing so hard.  "Golf is
    hard-core porn, Dead Man, and fishing shows are banned." 
    
    When Fraser finished half an hour later, Ray was the only one still in
    his seat.  He rose, giving the Mountie a standing ovation, clapping on
    the back of his hand.
    
    "Loved every word, Frase."
    
    Fraser smiled, sweetly, leaned forward and whispered. "When in Rome,
    Ray..." 
    
    Friday night had ceased to be boring. 
    
    


End file.
